One Must Be Strong for Those We Love
by Rose and Thorn
Summary: What was Jill feeling when she saw Eustace being dragged away? The Last Battle from Jill's perspective.


**AN:** Hello again, another fic from yours truly. Methinks it is the darkest I have written. Not sure how I did keeping everyone in character.

This is, obviously, bookverse. The beginning conversation is based upon another conversation of the same nature which occurs in The Last Battle.

If you like it, please review. Reviews make me happy and inspire me to continue writing. I don't care if it is a short review (though long reviews cause me to jump through the roof!). Just please let me know what you think of it.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia and I never will. It belongs to a genius who is, unfortunately, dead.

* * *

" Pole?"

" Yes, Scrubb?"

" What do you think happens in England when you die here?"

Jill Pole, lolling on a tuft of grass, sat up straight.

" What a question!" she snapped irritably. " I do hope you don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Eustace Scrubb, his head on his knees, didn't reply for a full minute. When he did speak, his voice, slightly muffled by the fabric of his trousers, was unnaturally tense.

" It _is_ a possibility, Pole. This battle just ties my stomach in knots. Do you think they find a body - a corpse?"

" No, I don't." Jill replied tersely. " I think you're being very stupid. Come, help me find my bow."

Eustace was not to be put off so easily. Raising his head, he met Jill's eyes.

" We could die, Jill." Four simple words, but the almost tangible fear behind each word caused Jill to leap to her feet.

" I don't want to hear it, Scrubb! If we die, we die for Aslan and Narnia. Isn't that better than growing old in England where the odds are we'll just be doddering idiots, playing canasta and going around in a bath chair?"

" Of course it is, Jill," Eustace replied, wearily. " I only wish - no, never mind, you're right. By Jove, you're right. Come, let's go find Jewel. He knows where the weapons are kept. Like as not Poggin picked up your bow. "

* * *

The battle which followed later that night was short and painful. Calormene after Calormene fell to the bite of Eustace's sword and the sting of Jill's arrow. In the end, however, it was not enough. Their enemies were too strong. At last the moment came when Tirian, his face bloody and his voice hoarse, gave the order to retreat to their refuge - the white rock.

Jill scampered to the white rock, her bow clasped firmly in her right hand. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she turned quickly to give a parting shot.

The bow fell unheeded to her side.

" Eustace!" Jill's scream was the scream of one half mad with grief. " Eustace!"

Carried in the swarthy arms of a Calormene soldier was a small struggling form. Jill never remembered the look of anger and frustration she witnessed on the pale face of her friend. Nor did she recall his shout as his captors shoved him roughly through the door. All she remembered of that moment was a feeling of utter and complete loneliness and the tears which fell unchecked to the ground - _not_ her bow.

_What do you think happens in England when you die here?_

Eustace's words of the morning rang in her head. Oh what, indeed! If only she had listened, if only she had been more sympathetic! More tears fell.

_Do you think they find a body - a corpse?_

Jill shuddered and slumped against the white rock, all thoughts of the battle gone from her mind. An image of Eustace, bloodied and bruised, sprawled across the train's hard seat flashed before her eyes. Oh, Eustace.

_We die for Aslan and Narnia_.

Jill lifted her head. Yes, it was for Narnia and, more importantly, Aslan. Gritting her teeth, she staggered to her feet, suddenly aware that a battle was still raging. Anger replaced all other emotions. Those she loved would not die in vain. Setting an arrow to the string with a steady hand, she whispered:

" For Narnia. For Aslan. For Eustace."

The arrow sped true, driving into the heart of a dwarf. Arrow after arrow pierced the skin or hide of her enemies as cold fury spurred her on.

_For Narnia._

A Satyr fell, an arrow in his throat. His life blood stained the ground a dull red.

_For Aslan._

A huge bull, his horns shining crimson, hit the ground heavily. A silver arrow peeked triumphantly from his blood-shot eye.

_For Eustace._

Jill's hand trembled slightly as she fired the last arrow into the heart of the Calormene soldier who had captured Eustace. She watched with satisfaction as he stumbled and fell. A grim smile touched her lips.

_For you, Eu-_

Her thoughts were cut short as a brawny hand seized her by the hair and dragged her towards the stable. She struggled, but to no avail. Closer and closer the stable loomed. A smell of smoke filled her nostrils. A strong hand pushed her through the door. She saw a flash of red, a flash of gold, and a group of noble faces.

With a contented sigh, Jill blinked up into the face on her left.

" Hullo Eustace," she said, with a small smile.

" Hullo, Jill," was the reply.

And in the years to come, Jill would always look back on that moment as one of the most joyous of her life.

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Please review!


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